


Intel

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, F/M, Fear, Sex for Ulterior Motives, movie-verse, mutual understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1487680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(SPOILERS for CA2 in summary)</p><p> </p><p>For this prompt at avengerkink:<br/>It's some months or years after the movie and Steve has successfully captured and gotten Bucky into a non-Winter Soldier state of mind. Steve keeps trying to get all his friends to be friends but Natasha isn't getting along with Bucky. She hides it well, but she's still terrified of him. She knows it wasn't his choice, but whenever she looks in his face she sees the man who shot that scientist *through* her, and shot her again in DC. She's not used to handling these emotions, and she's not ready to tell anyone about it. So she sets out to handle her fear in her own way: by fucking the hell out of Bucky. (Other) People are more vulnerable and open during sex, so she wants to get some kind of edge on him. Through his dick. I'm a huge shipper so I'd love it if this allows her to move on and be more comfortable around him, but I'd enjoy angst and darkness too.  </p><p>TL;DR: Nat gets over her fear of the Winter Soldier by getting lucky with Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intel

Most SHIELD agents had scars, and most of them were proud to show them off. Clint, for instance, had 23, and those were just the ones he could reveal by taking off his shirt.

Natasha was too good to have scars.

She knew that no amount of surgery would really cover up the remnants of a bad wound. And plenty of cover identities required her to wear little or no clothing. She had always been a little bit proud that she was too fast, too aware, too lethal to wear the marks of survival. 

Until the Winter Soldier. Until metal ripped through her body, killing her charge. Until she failed her mission, and then failed to track down the man who had beat her. Until she had to accept the fact that her guts bled as painful and helpless as anyone else’s. Until she had to accept the fact that there was someone out there in the world that had made her weak – not the pretense of weakness, which she had wielded so well and so often – but really and truly weak.

This was an entirely new experience. 

It terrified her, far more than greater enemies ever had or ever would.

\--

A year after the HYDRA takeover, things weren’t normal but they weren’t completely different either. There was a loose amalgam of anti-HYDRA forces that had just started to dare using the name “SHIELD” again. Fury was back, publicly, and so was Coulson and his new team. Sam Wilson and Sharon Carter were there, and Clint was made their handler, which amused Natasha, since she figured he might get payback for all the hell he put every single one of his handlers through. It wasn’t long before Natasha figured out that Coulson was intentionally giving Sam and Sharon tips on how to make Clint’s life miserable – using, of course, all the crap Clint had once pulled on Coulson.

Steve was there too. He had been instrumental in getting the crew back together, in no small part because he needed the resources of SHIELD to keep the Winter Soldier safe from HYDRA.

SHIELD agents were protecting the Winter Soldier. Hard to believe.

But the Winter Soldier had been back for 6 months, dragged back by Steve and Sam, and he appeared not to be the Winter Soldier any more. He remembered being James Buchanan Barnes, and he remembered Steve, his childhood, his time in WWII, and all the things that had happened to him since. He was spending a lot of time in psychologists’ offices, working through it all.

Natasha tried not to be resentful of the fact that he knew his real name, his past, his childhood, and everything that had been done to him to make him a killer. It was more than she ever got.

She also tried to put aside her fear. Steve wanted desperately for everyone to accept Bucky, and Fury had decided to make Barnes a probationary agent. So she was going to have to be in his presence.

And it’s not like she was in a position to argue for holding someone’s past against them. Not with the things she’d done.

And she could see how guilty Barnes felt, how anguished by it (more than she was about her past, but then, maybe that’s what happens when you find out you were once something other than a killer). She could even see how grateful he was to get a second chance to do right, something sharply familiar to her.

So she put on her best act and convinced everyone that she was happy Barnes was there, that he was healing, that he would be joining them on missions, that they would run into each other at the training gym and at the mess hall. 

Nobody noticed that every time she left a room he was in, she was breathing just a little bit harder than she should be, or that her fingers had involuntarily moved to rub against her scar.

\--

The problem was, Natasha didn’t do fear. 

She didn’t do weakness either. Not a second time, anyway.

She knew she had to confront him, so she could feel his human-ness, his vulnerability. So she could look into his eyes and understand his weaknesses the way she had done to countless marks before.

It wasn’t difficult to convince him to bring her to his bed.

It wasn’t difficult to pull his shirt off, to straddle him and slide down on to him, looking in his eyes the entire time.

She could see the need, the desire, plain as day. It was a good start.

She moved, rough, and felt him react. He wanted it rough, and she obliged. She kept staring into his eyes the entire time, their bodies moving in unison. She saw his guard fall to pieces as she moved her body, she saw his pain and his openness. She saw his mortality, as he started to sweat, as she could see the strain in his face as he strove to please her, as he left his neck wide open so that if she wanted to, she could end him right there. 

She saw his other weaknesses too. She saw his fear, his softness: he knew how dangerous she was, but he wanted her, wanted her body, but wanted her acceptance also. He wanted to believe that she thought he was whole again, he needed someone as cynical and ruthless as her to believe it, but he knew she didn’t. 

When they finished, she pulled away from him and got off the bed. She immediately began to get dressed.

“Feel better now?” Bucky said, looking at her, sad somehow.

“Yes, that was very satisfying, thank you,” she said, making clear that this was all it was.

Bucky let out a breath. “I’m sorry about what I did to you. Back then.” His voice cracked. He was lying down still, staring at the ceiling.

“You were programmed. I understand…. Believe me,” she said, careful not to sound overly empathetic.

“So are we okay now?” he asked her tentatively, moving up to lean on one elbow.

“We were okay before,” she said, pulling her shirt on.

He paused. “No, we weren’t.”

She stopped. She didn’t realize that Bucky had noticed her reactions to him.

She didn’t like that she hadn’t realized it. It was a big miss.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said. “You have every reason to be worried. There’s no telling when I’ll … revert.”

She stiffened. He was looking at her, jaw set, frowning, but his eyes told her everything, and even the Winter Soldier couldn’t fake this.

He was living in fear of the Winter Soldier, far more intimately than she was. He was terrified that he would never stop being a monster.

She knew exactly how that felt.

“People can change,” she said, casually, finishing getting dressed and putting on her shoes. “And we can handle it even if he comes back.”

“You think Steve will stop me?” he asked her, a bitter smile.

“No,” she answered, matter-of-fact, standing over him. “Steve will try to save you. I’ll stop you.”

He exhaled, let out a wry smile. He lay back down on the bed and stared up, away from her. “Good to know,” he said then, and it meant a thousand different things.


End file.
